


10th of August

by adieemus



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, First Love, First experiences, Love at First Sight, Other, Rating May Change, Self-Discovery, Self-Esteem Issues, Slow Burn, Summer Love, Summer Vacation, Teen Romance, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Underage - Freeform, Warnings May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-16 15:35:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28833519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adieemus/pseuds/adieemus
Summary: Encouraged by her mother, a sixteen-year-old girl decides to spend two weeks of her holidays to her grandmother place on Paradis Island, a magical place surrounded by an overwhelming legend. With a handful of clothes, fear and books as luggage, the girl will discover that certain adventures can involve even more than those told in her novels - of which she will never know the content, while the dust will accumulate on their covers.
Relationships: Armin Arlert/Annie Leonhart, Mikasa Ackerman/Eren Yeager
Comments: 57
Kudos: 85





	1. 21st of July

**Author's Note:**

> I felt like writing a comfort fic. Something I can look at, something that can provide me the warm feeling of an incoming summer. I hope this will bring you happy thoughts.  
> Have a nice reading.

**21st of July.**

"From the ferry, the sea resembles an infinite, borderless abyss", a lonely girl thinks, by looking at the vast line on the horizon in front of her. Resting her arms on the handrail, she sinks her chin between them, listening to the sound of the waves that are separated by the passage of the ferry. The folds of her white dress flutter, the Marleyan crest printed on the flag flies. How long she has been there? Motionless? Silent?

The wind messes her hair, and the sun kisses her face. And she realizes that it's almost sunset.

At the whistle of the ship, following the direction of the people, which is the same as the wind, Mikasa reopens her eyes. Slowly, resting her hand on the handrail, she heads to the bow, her hat back on her head, her luggage in the other hand. From there, however, the waves of the sea crash on the rocks of the mainland, indomitable and mighty. They kiss the destination of her next summer, a place of which, it seems, she has no memory:

The island of Paradis.

But for the moment, it hasn't her attention like the abyss and its creatures, and she feels an hand away from Atlantis and the universes she has read in her books.

As if it was home, hers. 

She belongs to the sea, and it belongs to her: it smiles at her with a color of its own, sapphire blue. Which is her favorite. Like the bow around her hat she firmly holds to her head before the wind leaves, perhaps telling some funny story to the sea.

She distracts herself for a moment from the vision, shaking her hair with her free hand that hinders the view, returning to her acerbic doubts she has, as acerbic as the springs that passed since she was born.

There are so many thoughts that repeat themselves, irrepressible, out of fear, in her head, and she comes to a hopeful conclusion – which strangely has the same voice as her mother – to try to silence them all:

_It's going to be okay._

_There's nothing to worry about._

_Moving to a new place, and meeting new people will be nice._

_Spending time with grandma won't hurt you._

Even if she smiles, Mikasa wishes she didn't have these stupid fears. She'd like to forget that she's traveling alone into the unknown. Yeah, she will spend nice time with her grandmother on the island, of course. And she will spend nice time reading books, watching sunsets, but then...what else? 

So she ignores everything in her head that tells her it's all going to be a _disaster._

But was there an alternative?

Well, yes. The alternative was to spend whole days at home alone, waiting for someone to cross the door for dinner time, converse for about ten minutes, and pick it all up the next day – a routine that had become hers for a couple of years.

Growing up, for Mikasa it had meant abandoning toast and strawberry jam for breakfast, to find herself, from one day to anothert, spending more time with solitude than with her family. The moments she spent with her father and mother boiled down only to a quick, hasty dinner that she prepared herself after paying the right attention to her studies. She gets up early in the morning, and they're no longer there. On the table, instead of cereals and orange juice, there are always banknotes, usually accompanied by a post-it that varies depending on the day:

'spend a good day',

'if you need more banknotes you know where to find them',

or, without leaving a glimmer of hope:

'See you tonight'

Thanks to their sacrifice, now they live in a better flat – but she doesn't have anyone to talk to.

She attends a prestigious school where everyone seems to ignore her existence.

So, to Mikasa, it’s left nothing but to study,

for them.

To give them a better life, and thus ensure savings for when she’ll go to university.

About her holidays, Mikasa certainly insisted that they didn't have to worry about her. That staying home was fine, that taking care of them when they came back from work would be more than fine this summer.

But her parents had instead insisted on the exact opposite, and even though they never got to talk about it, Mikasa knows that they are pushing her to leave that city for a while as form of...forgiveness, for the absurd changes that have taken place this year – allowing her to have fun and recover, a way to apologize for how difficult things have turned out for her and for them.

They have nothing to feel guilty about – that's what Mikasa thinks and repeats between the four little walls of her new home, and on that jetty of a ship in the middle of the sea. Even if things aren't going exactly as her family and her had hoped, it's certainly not their problem – but for that, and for other reasons related to "you're sixteen, and you should enjoy your age like all your friends," she finds herself traveling alone for the first time, with a handful of clothes and novels as luggage.

Her mother says she has nothing to worry about - that she loved that place as a child, even though she has no memory of it.

That this is a special place that will keep in her heart forever – because that's what happened to her when she was young.

“Well...maybe I’ll like this place, too” she says, talking to the sea. They understand each other.

“I'm a little scared - I'm afraid everything will go wrong here too.”

They sound like empty words, but the sea seems to be responding to them.

Seagulls sing in the sky, and fly towards the sunset that goes out into the waters. They seem to be headed along her own destination, and seem to greet the sea.

She gets lost in the opposite colors, the ones that are radiant, lively, that can be seen in the distance, and that are losing themselves in the sky and in the sea, becoming one with them,

one, without ever touching each other.

Mikasa sees it as a sign, and sits down to hear what else the sea has to tell her until she arrives.

* * *

"Welcome!"

Once arrived on the island, her grandmother wraps her in a warm and sincere embrace, unable to contain her enthusiasm. She takes her face in her hands, kisses her cheeks hard; the smile that she has printed on her lips makes Mikasa think that she demobilized half island to get here at least two hours before her arrival.

There's a long cliff separating the arrival of port ships from smaller ones, and to her right thereis a small pier, filled with colorful boats docking and fishermen waiting for the right time. The air tastes of sea, delights and sweets. It's a completely unusual air for Mikasa, but pleasant.

Many children run around, stopping to talk to fishermen or simply spending time on the rocks. There's a confusing crowd (but how many people are there?), and she doesn't think she's ever seen so many in her life.

The houses in the distance are almost all colorful; from the windowsills you can see flowers of all species: geraniums, daisies, roses and tulips. There are climbing plants for the balconies – the ones Mikasa loves– and all this seems to welcome her and wish her 'the good season'.

"So, how was the trip?"

They dive into the sea of people who live in those streets, one way to the other. Answering her grandmother in this moment, it almost seems like a lack of respect for the place. But she talks to her, tells her it's a pleasure to see her granddaughter there. Mikasa smiles for the first time in centuries.

"Pleasant, very pleasant."

Meanwhile, she enjoys the light breeze that strolls among the people.

"I never travelled alone, but it wasn’t bad. The view from the ship was great."

Among the streets that go along, the scent of cooked fish and delights is overwhelming. There are lemon trees everywhere, and souvernirs shops to surround the street, small little shops selling sea clothing and pastry shops of all kinds.

The roads are small and narrow, and buses don't pass by. Everyone here walks on foot, or by bike.

Everything is so different from Marley. Full of cars and grey houses and silence. 

And here they all have a smile on their lips.

It seems to be a habit of the place to offer tastings to passers-by to lure them into the shops, and Mikasa can't resist tasting what looks like a delicious pistachio treat.

She earns a smile from a waiter, a 'goodbye', and gradually feels the anxiety dissipate in the midst of this unjustified, but spontaneous, popular joy.

"Your hair has grown so much since we last saw each other" continues her grandmother, pointing to their length, which is about half back. "Look at you, you're a woman now!"

Her eyes are full of pride, affection and amazement - it reminds the look her mother gives her everyday. Mikasa smiles embarrassed, and once she gets into a taxi waiting for her in a small square, placing her suitcase in the trunk, she thanks the woman for her hospitality and briefly tells her about the past year. About all the changes that have taken place (but avoid letting her thoughts pass on about it), as she listens.

Mikasa has no idea if her voice is actually filtering all her thoughts from what she says, but her grandma doesn't seem to notice it, and that's fine for now. 

When the driver calls her by name, Mikasa processes that maybe it's not a taxi.

She processes how many people stopped to greet her grandmother on the short drive, and they _all_ seemed to make the same comments:

_"What a pretty girl!"_

_"She is tall!"_

_"She looks a lot like you when you were young, Kiyomi."_

Even the taxi driver seemed to be aware of her arrival, and Mikasa is so flattered by the attentions and numerous kind compliments she is receiving, that embarrassment takes the best of her - and so, she shuts up for the rest of the trip.

'Oh my god,' she thinks.

'Why? There are so many people... too many people!'

The view from the car becomes more and more breathtaking, and her breath stops in her throat when her eyes see a mighty structure. It dominates on the waves of the sea that crash at its feet, and rises mighty:

a lighthouse.

Seeing one has always been her dream, and now it's there, in front of her eyes - and it’s right behind it that the last lights of the day go to rest. Mikasa can't hold back the expression of happiness. She brings her hands to the window, then to her mouth, eyelids not closing for a second.

"Do you like it?"

Kiyomi gets closer to her, and her gaze shifts from her granddaughter to the vision they are sharing.

"It's beautiful," Mikasa can't stop looking at it, "it looks like it came out of a movie. I didn't know there was one here."

"Your mother didn't tell you anything about this place?"

"No," she states. "She just told me we spent our holidays here once, when I was nine, but I don't remember it."

"What a reckless!" 

Kiyomi crosses her arms in disappointment, then mumbles something that Mikasa can't understand.

"I think it’s up to me to do the honors of the house then, don't you think?"

"If not you, who should do it, Kiyomi?" 

The taxi driver, which name should me Mike, seems to have told her exactly what her grandmother wanted to hear, because exclaiming from joy, and pointing instead at the view from her own window, she gets even closer to her granddaughter, telling enthusiastically:

"If you like that, look on this other side."

It's a castle. A castle on the sea made raised on five towers. Mikasa can't believe her eyes. She just saw something she thought existed only in the books!

"That's why I chose to live on this island. It's called 'The Mermaid's Castle'. It's about eight hundred years old."

Oh.

"Why 'of the mermaid'?" the girl asks, naively. Kiyomi takes a few seconds before answering her.

"A legend has it that a sailor who came from outside fell in love with a mermaid who inhabited the waters of this sea, and that she turned into a woman, renouncing her kingdom to follow him. However, when the sailor resented the call of the sea, he abandoned the mermaid here. She died on that beach waiting for him, leaving her son on the island," she says, pointing to the beach out of the car window.

As sad as it is, Mikasa thinks that such a beautiful place could only have as much legend. About half an hour has passed since her arrival, and this place already seems to tell in short words the magic that surrounds it. She nods to those words, and tries not to let herself be distracted by the vision until the sun falls behind it.

"I hope I can visit it, one day."

"Maybe this year it’s possible, they seem to have chosen it as the location of the next 'Jazz Festival'."

"Is there a jazz festival?"

"Of course" - her grandma doesn't seem so pleased by her question - "one of the best known in our country."

"I can't believe mom didn't tell me that either," even though she knew how much Mikasa likes jazz!

"Is it okay for you to dine at the restaurant tonight?"

The drastic change of conversation brings the little girl with feet on the ground.

"Oh, Grandma, if you want I-I can cook tonight! You don't have to spend all these mone-"

"Money? What money?"

The taxi driver – or 'driver'? - laughs again, and for a moment she feels confused, uncomfortable. The car stops in front of a restaurant on the coast, which looks really expensive (to the point Mikasa wonders if the money she has back with her are enough to buy a slice of bread), and she'd love to sink in from embarrassment, when her grandmother decides to make fun of her, saying

"I'm the owner."

* * *

Mikasa enters the restaurant, embarrassed, by tipping, hesitant, narrow-shouldered steps. She's afraid someone else might stop her and ask her more questions, which she's too embarrassed to answer. Everyone persists in calling her "Kiyomi's granddaughter," when she would like someone to call her by her name - but no one does. When they sit down, everyone looks at her, everyone shakes her hand and ask her if she has to put on a jacket, what does she want to drink, if she's tired for the trip and what she likes to eat - caviar? Roast duck? Salmon? - and Mikasa tightens more and more in her shoulders, uncomfortably. It seems to be the object of the room's display. She'd like to run away there right away.

And the formality with which the local staff welcomes Kiyomi makes everything even worse, asking her arrangements about the tables, drivers, and also where they would like to spend their first day on the beach.

Everything it's a little too much for Mikasa. She has never seen such a luxury in her life, and just because she's _“Kiyomi Azumabito's granddaughter”,_ she doesn't think their worlds are similar. Mikasa has no idea how her grandmother house looks like, but she lives in a miserable apartment. Her grandmother's clothes are super expensive, while she bought hers with savings. Her grandmother has dinner in an expensive and luxurious restaurant, she buys her own dinner to the supermarket – to heat it in the microwave.

As she looks over her shoulder at the painted ceiling of that restaurant, she wonders… why her mother never told her about her grandmother so specifically?

Fortunately, to dampen the serious climate is a blonde-bearded waiter with round glasses, who addresses her grandmother with great confidence. First he gives her a smile, which seems reassuring to Mikasa, then entertains Kiyomi about things that sound illegal in Mikasa's head:

gambling,

Whiskey

fine cigars and cigarettes to be returned.

... What?

Kiyomi clears her voice, in front of the bearded man's insistence – and according to Mikasa also a little bit insolent.

"Do you want to be fired?"

"Eh? Why is that?"

"You're scaring my granddaughter."

"Oh come on, Kiyomi. How old is she?"

"Zeke."

"I’m sixteen" – adds Mikasa timidly.

To all this, Kiyomi laughs as if to make fun of the waiter in question, who looks at her with a questioning air as if to say _'what did I say'?_

And when his gaze shifts to Mikasa, and his lips open as if to ask her the first question, the ringing of a cell phone that she forgot to mute at the entrance sounds undisturbed,

interrupting the piano notes.

Mikasa opens her eyes in panic. 'Congratulations, Mikasa. You're really careless,' she thinks. She rushes to open her purse, repeating in her head 'oh my god, oh my god' because the ringtone of her cell phone really caught everyone's attention. She'd like to sink, sink. Hesitantly pulls out the electronic device.

_'Mom'_

"M-mama?"

Kiyomi clears her voice. Mikasa looks at her in panic. Her grandma points to the exit, inviting her to speak outside the restaurant so as not to disturb the music, and Mikasa gets up quickly, heading for some reason to the toilet, when she sees a back door and comes out.

Taking air after what happened, with one hand on her chest to feel her heart beating crazy, Mikasa hopes her mother won't hang up right away.

She opens her cellphone, accepting the call with a loud:

"Hello? Mommy?"

_'Mikasa!' -- a pause -- 'Mikasa!_ _You made me worry, are you okay? Are you with grandma?'_

This hidden corner of the restaurant is dark, and here they come all the smells from the kitchen: seafood, meat, something else she doesn’t recognize.

The air-conditioning fans run unbothered, and now that she thinks about it it's even hotter back here. Few kittens watch her from afar frightened, and then approach a dish of sardines placed a couple of steps away from her.

Mikasa begins to step back and forth, under the artificial light of a lamppost.

_"What's going on? Are you busy?_

"Oh mom, it's all right, don't worry," she hastens to reply, passing her cell phone from ear to ear as she does.

"But, oh, I absolutely have to apologize to grandma."

_“What happened?”_

"Why didn't you ever tell me grandma had a restaurant? The cell phone started ringing, and everyone in attendance turned upset" – Mikasa covers her mouth with a hand in shame. The _tap tap_ of her sandals resonates with every step, but she can't stand still.

_'Didn't she own five?'_ – comments her father, perhaps because the call on their part is on speakerphone.

And Mikasa can't think of anything but what she just heard.

Five? Her grandmother owned _five_ restaurants?

_"Calm down, darling. In that place these things happen every day."_

"Okay, but why didn't you ever tell me?"

_"I thought you remembered,"_ her mother disputes, raising her voice in reflection a few semitones.

"I didn't even know there was a castle."

_"Oh, you loved going there when you were a kid."_

Mikasa remembers the legend of the castle and the mermaid. The lighthouse. The beach she saw from afar and the sunset.

"Tell me, Mom... Have we really been here, before?"

_"Of course."_

She nods, coming to the conclusion that she remembers nothing. But how can you forget such a place?

_"But tell me, baby, how was the trip? How does the place look to you?"_

The girl recomposes, remaining as much as possible under the light of the lamppost. She should be safe here, considering the place to be her grandmother's property, but she can't get rid of the anxiety of being in a new place, with new people. Her heart beats hard from anxiety, and she brings a hand to her chest to check its beating. Mikasa hates places she doesn't know. And she's afraid everything's will go…wrong.

"Everything looks nice here, Mom. We only arrived half an hour ago and... everything is so different from Marley. People smile. There are no cars. And the sunset is breath taking. The trip on the ferry was beautiful."

_'Then why are you talking to me in this tone, baby?'_

Mikasa hasn't even realized what tone she's talking to her with, while again she's turning around herself, going forward for a few steps. But maybe it's fair to communicate her fears to her mother.

In the end, she's her only true friend.

A few steps away from her, meanwhile, a door opens and closes, silent.

The sole of a classic shoe beats on the stone, and there is a thud on wooden crates under the light.

Someone snorts in tiredness.

"It's... nice, but I'm afraid, Mom. I'm afraid to annoy grandma" - she plays nervously with her hair - "I'm afraid I won't be able to make friends, and that I’ll be... a burden to her."

With Mikasa's footsteps, her hair also floats in the air, threads at night falling gentle down her sinuous back, and falling asleep on the red flowers decorating her white dress.

When she turns in the direction of the noise, frightened, a pair of hands bring a cigarette to life through a lighter.

There is a puff in the air when those big hands no longer cover the face, a squeak on the wood and then silence. White smoke goes beyond the lips of the stranger, who just then seems to be aware that he is not alone.

_"Oh Mikasa, don't be afraid. Everything will be fine!"_

Their eyes cross, the piano music keeps playing.

One day they will wonder whether this is, in fact, the moment when everything connected for their meeting to take place.

But for now, time doesn’t flow anymore, while the cigarette burns between those long fingers.

And they fall in love there, behind a back door of a restaurant.


	2. 22nd of July

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the incredible support you gave me with just one chapter. That was honestly unexpected and warmed me in ways that you can't even imagine.  
> Your interest, kudos, comments pushed me to write this second chapter as soon as I could.  
> This will be a sort of introduction chapter. Love at first sight is strange to be felt and difficult to write, but I tried to do my best. I hope this story will make you smile.
> 
> Enjoy the lecture,  
> love you.
> 
> P.s chapted slightly edited on 1st February 2021.

Eren walks out of the restaurant to smoke a cigarette.

With a few hours of sleep, the voices of the customers still in his mind, his legs sore for having being at the service already most of the evening - he just wants to be alone, for the time of a cigarette and that's it. Not that it's comparable to a day's vacation from this summer routine in which he must necessarily take part - but maybe two minutes, two minutes only, away from any noise, at the back of a restaurant, can give him the strength to hold at least until 1:00 a.m.,

assuming the restaurant closes at that hour.

He pulls out the cigarettes his half-brother bought him, and brings one to his mouth.

There is something that unconsciously attracts his attention, when he lowers his hands, after giving fire to that cigarette: a feminine voice, sweet, shy, but what makes him arch an eyebrow is that it sounds full of doubts and fear. Unable to pick up what she's talking about, for a moment he believes it belongs to some distressed client - but it doesn't take long for her to reveal her face, and when she turns around, shy, playing with a lock of her hair, and stares at him, Eren finds himself looking at her in response.

Just looks at her.

Her legs. Her waistline. Her neck and face.

Her hands.

He doesn't know what colors her eyes are - but behold, he has no way of finding out, because it lasts all for a moment, even his perplexity in front of the figure in front of him.

It all lasts a few seconds, because then a ringing voice from her phone keeps talking, disturbing the silence that has been created between them. And the girl blinks a couple of times and then looks away, turns around, runs away, the tap of her sandals is as quick as her steps as she abandons that _shitty_ place leaving him alone with his cigarette.

And, for a second, he thinks he imagined her.

Zeke walks, and finds him there, with the cigarette in mid-air.

"I was looking for you. Are you done? "

"What?"

"Are you done smoking?" he says, leaning instinctively to check the state of the cigarette.

"I just lighted it."

"Okay, but hurry up. Kiyomi asked me about you. She needs a favor."

"What?"

"Have you seen the girl? The cute one that just passed? "

Eren archs an eyebrow, still uncertain whether it’s the result of his imagination or not.

Of course he saw her.

"So?"

"Oh," Zeke smiles at him, malignantly, "So you think she's pretty."

"You asked me if I had seen her, and I said yes. Now what do you want?"

"Well. You have to go to her and introduce yourself, and tell her that if she needs anything, she can ask you. That's all. "

Eren stares at him, startled. The stomach gasps. He has no idea why, but he takes a second to answer. 

"And why should I do that?"

Zeke rushes out of the kitchen with dishes, and whatever he was thinking has no importance anymore, because there's no time to think about bullshit when work calls - isn't it? Then he snorts, throwing away his cigarette. And that's how his half-brother ruined the only minutes of break he was given during that shitty night.

Being a waiter is hard, and having your half-brother as maître is even worse.

"You have two options: because she's on vacation and needs new friends, or because if you don't, you'll also work in August."

Jesus Christ, but why? Why is that everytime he opens his mouth, Zeke always has to make his day _worse,_ as if God hadn’t already forgotten their existence from the morning?

He glanced at her table, and from afar Eren got to look at her better. She adjusts the folds of the dress before sitting at the table, lays her mobile phone in her mini handbag, dropping it to the side of the chair and her black and long hair fluctuating in those movements.

As she's dressed, and well, to be sitting at the same table as Kiyomi Azumabito, she's definitely going to be part of that class of rich people who come to spend their holidays in Paradis. One of those too snobbish chicks, for a waiter - one of those people he works for, actually. But she looks around absent-mindedly.

Their eyes cross again, and just as before, this time Eren _notices_ how she purposely looks away, turning again in the direction of the mature woman and letting strands of black hair cover her face.

For a moment she looks in front of her - _pretends_ to look in front of her. But perhaps, her eyes are attracted to him just as those of his are attracted to hers - Eren feels that yeah, he is right, without any logical explanation - and resists the temptation to look elsewhere, because she, timidly, attentively, turns again to look at him. For one second. Just one second.

She blinks. Hides behind the long tufts of her hair.

And that's enough to fuck him for a couple of years this way, honestly.

Summer loves are really weird. They born for the most unlikely reasons in the world, for example by smoking a cigarette at the wrong time in the wrong place. They born and die out fast, in fourteen days of summer, and they make you feel that way,

Like a perfect idiot.

Putting aside for one moment how beautiful she is, honestly Eren only asks himself three questions:

The first is why he feels strangely relieved by Zeke's sudden proposal.

The second is why he feels disappointed by his own thoughts and expectations.

And the third, is how to introduce himself to that girl knowing he will never see her again after that.

Because in fact, she doesn't look like the girl who could ever need anything - you know, she sits with Kiyomi at the table. What could she ever need? Certainly not what _he_ needs.

"I'll go first, when I call you, you approach."

Eren feels a slight frustration, but he does what he says.

When Mikasa sees the bearded man arrive again, he has a big smile on his face, while she tries again to sit composed, get comfortable in a place that seems made specifically to do the opposite.

"What can I bring you?" he asks, with a pen in his hand and a paper block in the other. Mikasa thinks his accent is really weird, and completely different from her grandmother's - even though she has lived here for many years.

"For me, a glass of white wine and a grilled steak."

He's quick to mark her grandmother's order, and then he shifts his gaze to her.

"And for you, miss?"

"Huh?

He smiles at her again - but honestly, if he's doing it to try to make her feel better, he's just making the situation worse. He fixes the round glasses on his nose.

"For you? What do I bring you?"

"A-ah, r-right. Give me a minute, I haven't chosen yet."

"Take your time."

Meanwhile, the two engage in a small conversation, while Mikasa distractingly browses the menu, with flickering fingers.

There are too many people in this place, and she's not used to it, and now she has to choose quickly because it's already late. Mikasa feels observed, uncomfortable, something in her stomach seems not to give her peace and she is afraid to make the waiter wait too long. How rude from her! She didn't even order in time, and now he's there waiting for her!

She really chooses the first thing she sees on the menu, and she's about to open her mouth, when her vision shifts again to the person being called into question before her brain can even processes those words.

Oh _…oh._

"Mikasa," pause, "I'd like to introduce you to my brother, Eren."

At those words, her gaze shifts first to her side, and then to his.

"Eren" is the waiter from before, who apparently seems to be approaching their table.

She instinctively tightens in her shoulders, and her cheeks are tinged with red.

All the muscles in her body stiffen, and oh dear, she'd like to sink.

She looks up, and tries to remain impassive when she notices how tall he is and how green his eyes are. But how many colors are they? Oh, my god.

He raises an eyebrow in question, just like he did a moment ago, and she doesn't know why he does that - he's thinking you're stupid, Mikasa, that _you're stupid_ -, and she looks down as soon as Zeke introduces him.

"Hello."

Hello.

That's the first thing he tells her, a ‘hello’ that sounds dry, but friendly. Mikasa will never forget his first greeting - and not even the last of that summer - but in particular, she will not forget the shy smile he brings on his lips.

His tone of voice is grave and masculine. Although they are brothers, their faces do not resemble each other... not a bit. Eren's eyes have a different shape, are larger, clearer, expressive and enveloping, and his nose is long and pointed, his lips have an edgy heart shape, and even the structure of his shoulders seems to be wider. Its traits are more marked than Zeke's, more... harmonious, and their skins are of different colors. Zeke's as pale as she is, and... Eren appears to have been kissed by the Sun.

As a sign of education, much to the embarrassment and a strange sensation in her stomach, she smiles shyly at him as she extends her hand in his direction.

Eren watches her smiling, and however forced it seems, he can't help but see something genuine in it. Up close, she is even more beautiful than he thought - so beautiful to amaze him, just with her presence. Marked, round cheekbones as she smiles, and her almond-like look that looked cold a moment ago, now seems to be less severe. Softened. And her irises are as gray as the sky when the sea is in storm - hypnotic - and coal-black eyelashes touch her eyelids. His eyes then fall on her lips, which are full and pink – she doesn’t even wear a veil of makeup? - and her hands are small, delicate and tapered.

And who knows, maybe she noticed that he literally divoured her with his eyes. 

"I'm Mikasa."

Satisfied with his stupid personal challenge, he smiles at her in spare, and shakes her hand in his.

It's so small.

Their colors are opposite, she is as white as porcelain, he tanned like amber.

"Whatever you need, I'm here," he says, in a tone so sure that Mikasa believes he really means what he says.

"For these days I won't be at the beach in the morning, but if that's okay with you, I'll ask a friend to look for you tomorrow. What about that?"

Mikasa stares him for a moment, feels a thrill walking down her back, like electricity, and her stomach closes. Her heart still beats hard and the tip of her ears turn red - but she thinks it's because of the anxiety of the place being too crowded. And that he has a really strange accent.

Their hands are still tight in the grip. As shy as she is, even that embarrasses her, and she hopes her palms aren't sweating. She nods, and he smiles at her in response,

this time, sincerely.

She doesn't know why, but she starts to feel weird after seeing him smile.

"Well."

He leaves her grip, their eyes are still fixed on each other's - one decidedly less shy than the other - and Zeke pats him on the shoulder, interrupting for a moment whatever was happening between them, through their eyes.

"You know, Mikasa," her grandmother begins. "You and Eren used to play together when you were younger. Do you remember him?"

Mikasa shifts her gaze on him again, sees him turning his eyes. She blushes again, because it seems that with each reaction his eyes light up a more or less intense green, and the traits of his face become brighter as he smiles. She looks down, mortified, trying to hide her embarrassment further.

"N-no, I don't remember."

"Carla, her mother, always invited you to lunch at their house. She used to say that in your presence Eren became a quiet child."

Kiyomi carries a hand to her mouth, smiling as she remembers the scene. Mikasa carries a hand to her cheek for embarrassment, instead - but why would her grandmother ever mention such a thing? - and wonders if the boy has any idea about her, but judging by his facial expression, strange, it seems not.

And her grandmother really seems to want to make the situation even more embarrassing, when a woman in a white suit and black hair, with the same symbol on the top right pocket approaches their table. Maybe she came to call them back, considering how full the room is at this hour, and Mikasa's fear seems to be right.

"Mrs. Kiyomi, good evening," she says, greetings, and then turning to Mikasa, giving her a cordial "Welcome."

And all the embarrassment given by the atmosphere seems to come back in a second.

"Forgive the interruption."

"Go ahead, Pieck."

Then she rests a hand on Eren's shoulder, and approaches his ear, whispering something fast to him - and Eren nods.

He turns around as if to get away, evidently taken from the order he was given, and Mikasa does not know whether to say 'goodbye' to him or remain silent there.

But while Kiyomi exchanges her last chats with Zeke, driven by a curiosity she has never experienced before, she stares at him in his movements, of subtly, hiding half of her face on the menu. And the strange feeling of before returns, because it’s small, and almost imperceptible - who knows, perhaps imaginary - but the moment he catches her staring at him, and Mikasa moves her gaze back to the menu in the fraction of a second, she believes that he has... Smiled. This time, he didn't because he's in front of her grandmother, or because he had to offer his help, or because as an etiquette a waiter has to be nice to the client, no.

Mikasa knows he smiled at her because he caught her staring at him.

And she can feel her stomach gasping.

"So, miss, what do you order?"

The bearded man asks her again, making her return with her feet to the ground.

Mikasa closes the menu, and gives it back to him.

"What grandma takes."

When Zeke returns to the kitchen, tired, finding Eren there, he really can't hold back his mind.

"What the hell did you do?" he asks, exclaiming. "My God, I asked you for help -- not to make the situation worse. You just had to offer her your help, not embarrass her."

Eren ignores him, preferring instead to take from the package the cigarette that he hasn’t smoked before, and lights it on. Then he exhales, carrying a hand in his pocket when the evening breeze of the sea arrives at the restaurant.

And honestly, he doesn't have the slightest desire to comment on what his brother is implying, which is why he dismisses it with what, though to a small extent, is the truth:

"I don't know what you're talking about."

* * *

Mikasa opens her eyes slowly, when a ray of sunshine filters through the curtains of the chamber. Unconsciously, she turns to the side for an instinctive gesture of turning off the alarm - only to notice that there is no bedside table next to her, thus realizing that that room is unknown.

Who knows why for a moment she had forgotten everything, but opening her eyes in wonder, she realizes that she is not at _her_ home. Thankfully. And slowly, the brain begins to process everything that happened the previous day in a small summary, which goes from the ship trip to the drive and the restaurant. At the meeting around the corner.

The strange tension she felt at that moment returns and fades in a second - and Mikasa wonders why. And it is so fast, like a shock, such as to awaken her senses for an instant.

Which has positive advantages, because for once she doesn't feel that strange feeling in her chest telling her she's alone at home.

She gets up, and after a brief moment of personal care, explores the unknown white-walled house. The singing of seagulls and the waves of the sea resonate in the corridor where sounds from outside become more audible, and following it, Mikasa finds an open window on a terrace, with a large table and on it a vase of sunflowers, overlooking one of the most beautiful things she has ever seen:

the beach and the sea from a house.

She smiles. Her heart loses a beat. Her nostrils inhale the scent of iodine, while seagulls fly into the sky and delight her with their singing. In the air there is a scent of freshly made coffee, and on the wooden table in front of her, there is jam, toast, an omelet and other things that make Mikasa smile as she hasn’t done for years.

She rubs a hand over her eyes, she has no idea what time it is - it's eight o'clock in the morning? Or 7:30? - and for this reason she looks around, looking for a clock, which seems to be placed in the inner room:

It's 11:00 in the morning.

Mikasa opens her eyes in surprise. How long she hasn’t slept for so long?

But, here, one of the good things about being on vacation, is exactly this: what does it matter what time it is? And what harm can ever do, a few more hours of sleep?

She smiles like a fool, because in fact the rules that apply to Marley may not apply here, and then she sits at the table, pours a cup of steaming coffee, and breathes the scent of it. Then she looks at the sea to her left, closes her eyes, listens to the seagulls. And she believes that's one of the most beautiful 'good morning' she has ever received in her life.

After a while, when in addition to the singing of seagulls her stomach also makes itself felt, she sinks a knife into the jam to smear it on toast. She's about to wonder if she's alone in the house, but apparently the answer isn't long in coming, and her grandmother catches up with her moments later, sitting in front of her after giving her a kiss on the cheek.

"Good morning, sleepy head."

Mikasa smiles at her, and believes that maybe she's not awake for a long time either: her face is rested, her makeup done, and her black hair falls down her shoulders. In this position she looks a lot like her mother ( oh! Her mom! After breakfast she will give her a call).

"Did you sleep well?" she asks softly, pouring coffee into a cup.

"I hadn't slept like this in ages. It was strange to wake up without an alarm."

"No alarm on vacation: here you are free to do whatever you want, darling."

Mikasa thinks this looks like a dream. And indeed, it is. Well, being with your grandmother in a place like this is definitely better than sitting at home alone all day - every day - and from here she can see the seagulls, the sand and the sea, and not the cars and gray sky typical of Marley.

She can visit places, take photos and chat, and finds it extremely enjoyable to hear her grandmother's stories, considering she's never had a way to spend so much time with her given the distance. But she tells her about when years ago, she found a holiday home here, fell in love with the place, the lovely castle, and ended up buying this house once she decided to come and live here. It’s strange to know that there are people living on this island, also considering the large number of tourists she saw yesterday, but once they got out of there and headed for the beach, she notices that it is more inhabited than she thought. And who knows, maybe this place will be as beautiful even in winter - even if she can't imagine walking those streets in a coat and hat, instead of a cover-up dress and bikini.

The sea is cold and crystal clear, the sand is as dark as cinnamon. When Mikasa approaches, dipping her feet, she notices that it’s so clear that the colored stones and fishes are visible through the water, and a thrill runs through her body when a small wave gets to wet her thigh. When she drops the cover-up dress at the height of the silver anklet she wears, sliding it along her legs, she wonders if the bikini her mother gave her isn't perhaps... too much. Yeah, they have very similar tastes, but that seems too... pink – and this high cup?! – oh lord, how exposed is her lower back? Even the neckline, which falls down to the sternum, looks very pronounced, even if the large floral decoration at the edges cover it a bit.

"Trust me," she told her. "It looks great on you. You will see that everyone will look at you!"

(And that's exactly what she wouldn't want to happen.)

Resigned and embarrassed, she plunges into the water, and the ceiling becomes sky and the sweet melody waves. Ink threads float on the surface, like a halo, as sounds become further and further away.

Then she thinks back to yesterday's eyes.

To the strange accent.

To the smile.

And her eyes snap open again.

She is grateful that the sun colors her skin, because her cheeks are on fire again.

(Oh dear, what is happening to her?)

Once out of the water, she brings back her hair, which falls kind and shiny down her sinuous back, and it's as if the sun is taking its time to admire her and kiss that delicate skin. And it's like everything wants to make fun of her and the way she feels about that guy with stunning eyes and chocolate hair, because right after thinking about him, she finds out someone is looking for her.

Her grandmother is faced with a boy with short blonde hair, big blue eyes.

She doesn't know why, but every time she's in front of someone new, the mere idea of interacting makes her uncomfortable, particularly when the encounter is forced like, well, this case.

And for the first time, Mikasa comes to a conclusion:

why doesn't her grandmother mind her own business?

"H-hello!" the boy hastens to add. His eyes are blue just like the sea, hair is so blonde under the sun that Mikasa wonders if he's from the island. "You must be Eren's friend, Mikasa. My name is Armin."

To this observation, she opens her eyes in surprise, and brings a hand to her mouth to suppress a laugh.

Did _he_ really send someone to look for her?

This small gesture seems to calm the boy in front of her in an instant, who in a moment of uncertainty, at the sight of Mikasa's smile, smiles in response, and extends his hand.

He looks like a reliable guy. She has no doubt about that.

"Nice to meet you, Armin."

She doesn't know why, but everyone looks at her like she's a scary, fearful. Even the guy in front of her looked at her like that, until a second ago. But Mikasa tries to put the thought aside so as not to compromise their conversation, and also puts aside the feeling of discomfort she feels.

"Eren... he told me he was going to send someone to my rescue”, she comments, ironic.

"And I suppose he told you we're childhood friends," the blonde adds. "I'm really glad to meet you. He told me that... you've been here before."

Not wanting to disappoint his expectations, Mikasa nods.

"Listen," he tells her with a smile, cutting the speech short. Mikasa appreciates that. “My friends and I are going to play beach volleyball, and we need another player. Wanna join us?"

Uncertain, she brings a lock of wet hair behind her ear. But she must do it, doesn't she? She must do it, if she wants at least to try to enjoy her summer. Also, she has the vague impression that the boy in front of her knows how she feels, because he smiles to her in encourgement.

"Of course - if for you it’s okay.”

"Of course it is."

He turns, the polite and reassuring smile still printed on his face.

"Then let's go. And please, don't...mind the other guys. They're... weird."

That makes the girl arch an eyebrow.

"Weird?"

"You'll understand when you’ll see them."

They walk on the shoreline, reaching shortly after the beach volleyball camp, placed on the beach under the burning sun of July. They don't talk much during the walk, but once arrived there, Armin points to a group of guys looking at her... Perplexed.

There are in six. Two girls and four boys.

And they're looking at her from top to toe.

Mikasa suddenly stiffens, snaps, and her chest closes in a tight anxiety that arises from her stomach.

She stays calm outside, but pretends to look elsewhere to avoid their gaze, because she knows they're watching her.

Those girls are so... beautiful, and she's...

Just her.

And why did she wear this bikini? What they're going to think of her...

"I found another player," says Armin, who seems quiet even though the sun is scorching.

"Her name is Mikasa, and she's on the team with me! "

* * *

In opposition to the panic of meeting someone new, to the fear of giving a bad impressions of her, fear of not appearing as someone friendly, and all the possible uncomfortable thoughts a sixteen years old girl not used to confrontation can have, 

she spends, instead, an _incredible_ morning.

So incredible that even after lunch, Armin looks for her, asking her to join them for an afternoon on the beach.

The beach volleyball court is overrun with people watching their match, excited, rooting for their team. Who knows - maybe it's true that sport brings people together, because all of a sudden anxiety makes room for concentration - and Mikasa plays. She shows all the school volleyball years she's spent, and she enjoys, smiles even to the opposing team. Everyone asks her her name, and asks her if she will join the summer tournament that will take place in two weeks.

Which coincides with her departure.

"You can't leave so soon," Sasha, the brunette girl tells her. "True summer starts in August!"

"I know," Mikasa justifies, mortified. "But I really have to help my parents with their work. And I should start studying for the beginning of school..."

"Eh? But school starts in September!"

"I know... it’s that... if I have to help my parents, I will have less time to study..."

"You know what, Mikasa? Fuck your parents."

"Huh?!"

"Reiner!"

"Fuck your parents. We need you for the summer tournament. They will understand," he tells her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"We finally have someone who can replace Eren."

"That motherfucker."

"Ouch, Annie. If only he heard what you said..."

Everyone is nice to her, and for a moment she doesn't know if it's because they're just...spontaneous, if it's because she is Kiyomi Azumabito's granddaughter or for some reasons that involve Eren himself. But for the moment she doesn't want to give weight to her thoughts, and thinks more about making herself comfortable among these 'weird' guys.

About Eren, his friends talk a lot about him. He seems to make his presence felt, and even more his absence. As he had anticipated, he doesn't come to the beach in the morning, more in the afternoon before work.

"He should be at the kiosk," Armin points out, during a moment of break where they rest by sitting in the sand. "Let's go."

They tell her that Eren was an irascible and fickle person, but with a great heart. That Reiner knows something about it, and he tells her about how their relationship was made of kick-offs and moments of drunkenness - seems that Eren knew his nasal septum better than himself - and that as absurd as it sounds, that's what made them friends.

She can't believe they're talking about the same person she met the night before.

But someone adds that the new Eren is different - and no one comments anymore. Not even Armin, and there is a bitter sweet smile on his lips Mikasa doesn’t understand. Genuinely she doesn't ask. The last thing she wants is for them to take her for indiscreet.

So, as she follows Armin to the kiosk, with everyone else, she wonders how he is.

Probably, if she hadn't gone to the restaurant that night, he would never have approached the table, would never have offered her help - although Mikasa didn't think she needed it - and would never have known these kind people, despite her shyness.

So... how can she thank him for what he did?

"Talking about the devil."

She looks up, and he's there, ordering a drink, just as Armin had thought. He doesn't notice her presence, and for a moment she's grateful, because that... strange feeling of the day before, which she believed forgotten, returns, and if the cheeks had not reddened because of the sun in the course of the day, they would probably be on fire.

And he's even more handsome than he was yesterday.

All beautiful, tall, with his chocolate-colored hair pulled back and his amber skin, and his sea green eyes. He must be one of those guys who's popular with girls, isn't he?

If he has a certain effect on her, too, who never really liked a guy, let alone the others. And as embarrassing as it is for her to make such an admission, that's nothing but the truth.

He smiles cheerfully at the bartender, pulls his head back from laughter to a joke. The unbuttoned collar and the uncovered skin of his chest call for her attention – but Mikasa is quick to advert her thoughts, and can’t help but notice how…different he looks from yesterday.

Less tired. More smiling.

"Beer before work?" asks Reiner.

He turns, and instinctively she covers her chest crossing her arms, as if waiting. 

And just like the previous day, his eyes land on hers - and his expression is, again, undecipherable. Waves rushes through her body, and the electricity runs through her spine, and suddenly she is reminded of the visible cleavage, the cover-up dress forgotten elsewhere. She keeps her gaze low for a few seconds, then nervously turns to the side, pretending to look at something.

Where did her inner security go?

Oh, my.

Did she forget that if she met anyone today, it's because of him?

"Your childhood friend is really good at playing, you know? We finally know who to replace you with for the summer tournament."

Oh well, perfect timing.

She looks up, hints at a shy smile when he looks at her.

_Hide this stupid panic, Mikasa._

_Hide it._

But then his eyebrows rise, and the sea green waves shine even more in the sun,

And she gets to the conclusion they seem made to get her attention.

Eren suppresses a laugh, bringing a hand to his mouth. The veins branch out into his hands. He doesn't scrutinize her like others did that morning - he doesn't look at her like she's looking at him. He observes her for a single moment, and then looks at Reiner in response.

"Oh, I think so. She trains more than all of you, for sure. She has even more abs than I do."

She can’t help but smile shily to that comment, to the strange accent he brings with his voice, and that masculine and boyish voice so different from the others.

Then she processes what he said, and a question rises in her head out of sudden:

_When did he notice her abs?_

A certain sense, similar to satisfaction, is found in her chest. And whatever they're talking about, it doesn't have her attention like the look he has right now, doesn't fail to notice the change of his gaze - even if she thinks she is crazy to the point that she invented it - the moment he catches her starting at him.

Eren pulls a breath from his nostrils, snaps, changes speech, disgusted by his own thoughts.

'Eren, are you serious? She's Kiyomi's granddaughter’ his brain tells him, or his conscience -- funny that it has the same tone as Armin, isn't it?

He tries to think of something else to forget how perfect she is in that damn bikini she wears. She is made to send him to the asylum, isn't she? His boss's granddaughter is made to send him to the asylum.

No surprise Reiner didn't take his eyes off her.

Rather, he shifts the subject to what to do that night. Oh, sure. Hoping he'll get free quickly. And Sasha asks not to be late again, because she's tired of coming back at six in the morning - and Reiner wonders if she's tired of coming back at 6:00am or for what she's done with Connie before. And Eren wishes he'd never done that. That he had kept that detail to himself. Because now Mikasa has looked away from him and looks at them in shock, and the image Eren tried to build to convince her to make friends with them is destroyed in an instant.

Armin looks at him, and in a silence of glances Eren begs for help.

"Enough, enough. Let's drink something, we'll decide what to do tonight in a while."

Oh. Thank God. His friend. His angel. 

Eren breathes out the very same moment they move from there. Someone orders a drink, while the others occupy a seat at the tables of that bar, but here is the fact: 

She doesn't. 

She stays in front of him. 

He doesn't know why she's left behind, and pretends to ignore she is, indeed, trying to approach him, by pulling out a cigarette from the package and bringing it to his mouth. But she is bolder than he thought, because the next istant she stops him, shy, hesitant, by placing one of her delicate hands on his forearm and calls him by name.

"Eren."

Unaware of the big, big mistakes she made in this moment. 

He takes a moment, to rejoice in the way the strangest thing that ever happened to him calls his name:

It sounds less bad said by her.

Kinder.

As if his name had never been compared to the word "problem."

Her fingertips touch his tattoo, something she acknowledges the very same moment she realizes she has touched him. 

What she says is pretty much unexpected by him, and makes her tender – even more beautiful at his eyes, if possible.

"Thank you for what you did for me today, " she says, shyly, but with conviction.

"It was... really kind, from you. "

So beautiful that he wonders if she's aware of it, how he looks at her, how they look at her.

How can she not notice that?

And that's when the worst of him comes out, right when Zeke's words from the previous night resonate in his head with an echo. 

'Two weeks'.

Just two weeks and she's going to leave.

What loser is he? For being attracted to a presence like a magnet at first glance? For feeling bewitched by someone who will probably leave in two weeks?

Why does he feel willing to go that far with a person he met just a few hours ago?

It's an unknown, pleasant and strange feeling, and at the same time it sounds insane.

He wonders if that's how Reiner feels every time he's dealing with a pretty girl.

Eren would like to answer her kindly, but trying to sound kind and honest at the same time doesn't work if you're already an impulsive person, to start with.

So he does the only thing he can do.

"Why don't you join us, tonight?"

If he cannot make it clear why he has been feeling this way since yesterday, at least he can make it clear who she is dealing with.

It seems he caught her off guard, because she's not answering. She stares at him, blinks and picks up the hand she has on his forearm. 

If Armin found out, it would be the end for him.

"I-I don't know, " she says, fearful, "I would love to -- but I don't think I can be late."

‘I would love to.'

She would love to.

She'd love to... but she can't?

No way.

"For your grandmother?"

"Yes."

"Then ask her."

"Huh?"

"Ask her if you can stay with us tonight," he tells her.

She grits her eyes, as taken from a great embarrassment, perhaps due to his impulsivity, shyness, or how close he has come to her.

"I'll be free around midnight. Wait for me at the park with the others," he takes a break, then continues.

"I will take you home, so your grandmother can feel at ease. She trusts me, after all."

Armin would punch him in the face if he heard him.

"Sounds good enough, _to you_?"

But Eren doesn't really care right now. 

The expression on her face is indescribable - and for a moment he is taken back by his own boldness. Three thousand emotions pass through her eyes, and Eren would at least like to know is she thinks he crazy, or if, _somehow_ , she feels like him:

_impatient._

They look at each other for a few more seconds, Eren communicating his intentions with his gaze, without backing down, and Mikasa wondering what to do. Her eyes moves on his frantically, and in the end, after some agonizing - and unbereable - seconds, she _nods_ , silencing even if for a short time part of the impatience he brings in.

And fuck, he smiles at her - but _grins_ at himself instead - satisfied. He lets her know that he is. And she looks down, red. Probably embarassed. Probably in panic. 

He loves that.

And he doesn't dare to pose her any question, not a word, while they walk to reach the others - for them being reserved for those extra minutes he slyly gained.

And for reasons, the perspective of that night at work doesn't look so boring anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note.  
> The story will switch from personal develpment to teens adventures and funny things (also, if you are a weak for descriptions just like me, don't worry, they won't miss.)  
> As usual, kudos, comments or dms are literally food for a fic writer - and super appreciated (above all after all the hours of work behind this x_x)


	3. 23rd of July

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello guys, thank you again for the lovely reviews you left me - and thank you for helping me to fix the previous chapters!  
> While I'm writing a canonverse, I felt like dropping this chapter, since it seems both us and Yams like AU's :P  
> I tried my best to convey all the feelings, and in general, how weird and strange and rushed but still beautiful summer stories can be.   
> I hope this chapter will make you smile, and in case you need a tissue for the canon situation instead, you have a shoulder to cry on.  
> Enjoy. Thank you again for all the love.   
> (Check notes in the end as well. We must scream together.)

Until about a year ago, being around before sunset on a sultry day like this, for Eren meant feeling free.

It was as if the island changed, in summer: its colors, and its stones, and the shop windows and even the colors of the sunset that he saw from the beach after school turned different.

Maybe, that’s how summer works. It changes people, and the places. Summer must be some sort of “fast forward” button, because everything feels amplified, strange and new, and that’s why it’s his favorite season: it makes him feel alive, mad, crazy, ready to rejoice the warmth of a sultry day after a long winter, by diving in the cold waters of the sea.

In summer, his days seemed divided by that moment when the sun seemed far from falling into the sea, until the moment it indulged in it, while the waves of the sea sang on the notes of his guitar.

Reiner would buy those hot, shoddy beer cans for everyone, those cheap ones that gave them the feeling of feeling more carefree, happy, because it was summer and that’s how things had to be. And they would be there laughing and sipping them in disgust - a taste that, as absurd as it sounds, sounded better than any other craft beer.

Tasting that horrible flavor at the tip of his tongue, for Eren meant summer had come. It didn't matter if, for the next one, he would have to wait a whole year, which resembled the previous one and the one before that,

because that year, somehow, would pass just like others. Going to school. Studying. Getting back home and hoping summer would come back soon.

Every year except that one.

A year ago, Eren was a kid.

Just a kid.

And now he is a teen with the responsibilities of a man.

He could have never imagined that part of the responsibilities of his home would fall on his shoulders, all of sudden: during a night. That he would have lied about his age to get a job. That he would have bought groceries. That he would have paid bills with the money he had earned, and making early plans for college - if he really wanted to attend one in three years.

Now, being around before sunset means that starting from this moment he has sixty minutes. Sixty minutes to change clothes for work, walk, and reach the restaurant where he would have spent most of his night, most of his week. No more summer. No more freedom.  
Only responsibility.

Even the narrow road to his house has been too quiet for seven months now.

Not only summer changes things.

His house quickly became the place from which he would like to escape, if only he could. Too big for two people, too full of memories for those who would like to forget, too lived to be abandoned. It reminds him of the timing of a hot dinner and a table set for three, not two. It reminds him of the days when he could stay and talk to his mother and father without having to run to work; those were days where Eren ignored what it meant to be strong, for there was simply no need. And that hurts him, because those who still lives in that house looks for his company, presence and affection, cooking for him before he goes to work.

He slings in his room, hastly - because he doesn't have time to think, he doesn't want to have _any_ \- pulling out his shirt, classic pants and shoes from the closet, resting them on his bed while he undresses.

The books are still open on the desk - a way he has to focus as soon as possible the next morning, despite the few hours of sleep, despite the fact that summer is not made to see those books there, but on a shelf. And distracted as he is, he doesn't even notice his mother's footsteps when, tired, fearful, she approaches the door frame.

"Eren."

He turns in that direction, to find the same eyes, the same sight as ever, the same unsooferred prayer. His mother observes him with admiration, with love, as if to ask how certain children are even more beautiful and diligent than their parents, finding among a few traits of his face, eyes and his hands a little of what has now been lost forever.

At certain times Eren would have taken from his mother the expressiveness of her eyes - so that someone understands when he feels strong, when he feels weak, and doesn't have to make a great effort to put things into words when he doesn't even have the strength to do so.

Her eyes tell what happened between the walls of this house with so much clarity, that every word by voice would seem superfluous.

She's tired, so tired.

Everything about her, every pore of her seems to talk to him, reminds him of the pain they pretend not to feel, as if her swollen eyes weren’t begging to shed tears, which don’t fall so that Eren doesn’t notice them.

Eren knows seven months aren't enough for either of them. That no family, no person in the world deserves what happened to them instead. And then he takes a big breath, and hugs her, as if his height and stance could make her understand he became a man - maybe too fast – so she doesn’t have to get worried for him. He is strong enough to give her all the strenght he has,

all the strenght he has left.

"Midget," he kisses her forehead. "How about eating something together before I go to work?"

He loves the smile she makes in these moments - given how rare her smiles have been for seven months now.

"I was going to ask you anyway. How about macaroni and cheese? They're almost ready."

And Eren can only give her the warmest and most sincere smile in the world to the fact that, somehow, that smile is for him.

"Fine to me."

He takes his cell phone from his desk, quickly typing Zeke's number to text him.

_"Tell Pieck not to prepare anything for me."_

He then mutes his cell phone, puts it in his pocket, and offers a big hug to his mother as the scent of cheese invades the small kitchen.

* * *

Somehow, working isn't a negative thing, for itself, because it makes him think less.

Time seems to flow fast when the room is full - a little less when there are only a few tables occupied. Isn't it ironic that the thing he hates the most is the one that helps him best? 

With work, Eren has learned to be patient, to shut up when he has to, to complain in front of the bathroom mirror when he just can't do it.

If you ask him, behave for a fuckin costumer is a torture.

His first days were a real disaster, and he almost risked being kicked out of there – from the only place that wouldn't guarantee him a miserable paycheck to pay some of his house's expenses.

At first, seven months ago, when the sky turned dark already at four in the afternoon, all he could think of was the death of his father. Both at work and at school.

Mindless. Eren was so mindless. The only thing he was able to think about was guilt,

Guilt, guilt.

But well, pain is personal, and no one understands it.

Teachers don’t understand it, same for classmates, same for the insufficiencies on the report card, and the threat of not exceeding the third year of school.

Jaeger, your marks are lowering.’

‘Jaeger, with this it makes three insufficiencies’.

‘Jaeger – you were one of the best student of our school, what is happening to you? You even skip our training sessions.’

His answer was always the same. Both at school and work:

“Just a bad period.”

About his job, he didn't get along very well with the other waiters in the beginning, and he hated being asked why he worked so young, just as he hated being asked why his school performance had dropped so drastically.

Actually, he still hates those questions, but at least now he knows how to hold himself so as not to send to hell who asks him.

Sometimes people should just do their own business, and be less intrusive - a request that, apparently, sounds less likely to find gold coins on the street.

Seven months aren’t many, but you can barely heal, enough to still feel the pain tear you apart but accept that, somehow,

_life goes on._

And slowly, at his pace, that's what Eren does: he works, studies, gets distracted with friends; sometimes, he even distracts himself with a few girls - a way to convince himself that he is still a teenager, that life isn’t just pain, a way to remember that in some absurd way he should continue to live his own.

That evening, in fact, Eren performs all the tasks with strange dedication and perfection, just because he can't wait to escape from there and join his friends at the park.

No one complains about his ways of doing things, and surprisingly, he knows how to give right advice to customers, no one reproaches him for forgetting to serve a table. Even Zeke is amazed at his work, and at Eren's request to let him go out from there sooner, he can only allow.

Everyone looks at him with a curious look, but no one dares ask him questions - given how secretive he is about his private life.

Someone mentions to him that a certain blonde girl has passed by to ask about him – oh Jesus Christ, again?! - but he pretends not to listen, because the clock, at that moment marks the past eleven and thirty. And then, Eren dismisses all the other waiters with a _"I must go"_ without any justification.

He wears the sweatshirt that hides his work shirt - a guy in a sweatshirt and classic pants? An outfit totally in the norm- , and takes the path of the meeting point, sighing in relief, because at least he is far from that damn hell.

And when he arrives at the park shortly afterwards, a gentle reminder pops up in his brain, because still, the prospect of a serene day at work had to be justified by _something._

_Or someone._

She is there.

Listening to Armin speaking, sitting next to Sasha and Annie, showing off her angelic and shy smile while Armin gesticulates enthusiastically.

She looks like that girl who loves to read books in her spare time with her hands full of ink - a kind of feminine version of his best friend, but prettier. No doubt they'd get along.

"Are you done early, tonight?" Annie guesses, and if you ask Eren, she looks pretty… bored?

No, wait. Not bored.

Annie's almost _furious._

Before she gets, Annie always goes to that strange _‘I don’t give a damn about that shit’_ phase that is just as fake as the smile she does in this moment.

Eren, however, doesn’t ask why, having neither the strength nor the patience to hear her complain. Goddamn, he has enough dramas in his life, can he for once reserve the question later?

So he just nods, and shortened the distance among them, his eyes land on Mikasa for a second.

Suddenly, his eyes open in wonder, and he believes that the sweet, almond-like feminine scent he smells in the air is hers - he recognizes it, because it's similar to the one Zeke has on his jacket every now and then - for all these years he has never heard of Annie or Sasha wearing one.

Eren doesn’t know why a sixteen-year-old girl should cover her natural smell with a fictitious one, he ignores the intentions behind such a stupid gesture, even if it was precisely this that attracted his own attention.

By profile, her eyelashes look blacker and bulky than yesterday - did she wear mascara? - making her gaze even more deep, tempting, hypnotic.

"…but only because it's Monday, " he continues, to answer the question before.

But, of course, he's too distracted.

She's like the chicest girl he has ever seen, the kind of girl he generally hated the most in his life, and at the same time the type that intrigues him the _most._ Chic girls are strange. They act all snob, nonchalant, as If they could buy you with just one gaze.

He tries to distract himself from the thoughts that formulate in his head at her sight (a stupid internal struggle that has neither head nor tail), and fuck him, he is _so done_ , so he gets to the conclusion that the reason he feels – it must be, or he is just going insane - so much curiosity for her, it’s because he is just…

bored.

Just bored.

Bored by this damn island, by the people, by the fact that that was really a year _of shit_ , that he is bored by that boring girl who keeps looking for him and calls him even if he told her he is _so done_ with her.

But behold, the chic girl does nothing, _absolutely nothing_ to get his attention. However, as long as she sits down, and talks to someone else, his eyes move inevitably, insistently, and shamelessly on her.

And maybe, in all that summer, at least for that night, fate is on _his side_.

After a while, she begins to nervously look at her watch – is it silver? Is she crazy to go out with a thing like that? - while the others speak. She bites her lips, the lower one goes fully in her mouth and gets out wet, while her teeth keep biting it and -

Jesus Eren just stop lookin at her like that, before she notices.

Or worse, before Armin notices you.

And she does that again and no longer snares her legs.

She is so nonchalant when she moves, so unaware of the perception of people around her – it would make Eren think she is used to be observed – some sort of young model, you know? – if it wasn’t for the frantic way she plays with her hands and bites her soft, innocent lips.

She listens absent-mindedly to other people's discourse, but her eyes move frantically between Armin's, and her watch. Sasha's, and her watch.

Curfew?

"Where are Reiner and Berthold?"

"At the beach.”

"Then let's reach them, now that Eren is here."

"Better than staying here for sure. "

Mikasa looks at the watch for one last time, and disheartened, carries the crossbody bag on her shoulder. And Eren understands.

"Well, I must go home" - his assumptions were exact- "it was nice to spend time with you. Enjoy your night - hope to see you tomorrow."

Armin stops walking, and turns in their direction.

"Aren't you coming with us?" Armin wonders.

"I’ll skip for tonight. I have to wake up early tomorrow."

"It's too late to come back alone. Do you want us to take you home?"

Eren doesn't understand why sometimes he behaves like this. He means, he's there, _next to her_ , for a reason. So why ask unnecessary questions?

"Oh no, Armin. That's very kind from you, but don't worry about me."

At that moment, Eren senses Mikasa's eyes quickly move over him, and then adverts her gaze.

She's about to open her mouth when Eren spares her embarrassment and answers for both of them.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of it. I already warned Kiyomi that I'd take her home."

"Oh, okay."

Armin doesn't seem very convinced of his proposal, but nods anyway, landing his eyes to Eren's, and then Mikasa's.

"All right. See you tomorrow, then. Eleven o’ clock, at the beach."

The moment Armin greets them, and Eren tells him that they will meet again in a moment, the two part from the group, leaving the park, alone.

***

Their steps on the street illuminated by streetlights resonate in the air, filling the shy silence that interposes with each other, but honestly, Eren doesn't really care. He doesn't even look at the street, of which he knows every stone and every intersection, more attentive to the presence that walks next to him.

You must think he is crazy, because he doesn’t know why, but he feels really weird all of sudden.

Right the moment he realized he is alone with her.

The thoughts of a while ago seem forgotten. _Completely_ forgotten. And no, he isn’t referring just to the strange feeling of curiosity that she arouses to him of a while ago, more to the fact he just acknowledged how _quiet_ , reassuring her charm is – not very typical from a chic - , more to the feeling of _not_ feeling embarrassed to walk next to her, even if they remain silent.

His brain is probably aware that he met her a few years ago, but at the same time Eren feels it has everything to do with the feeling he felt at their first meeting.

However, he knows nothing about the quiet presence, other than that she wears expensive clothes, a perfume certainly not suitable for a girl of her age, and that she must love books - the last hypothesis undoubtable.

He's turning in her direction, only to leave the question he was about to ask her trapped between his lips, because he sees her covering her arms with her hands, and her heart-shaped lips are trembling. Her shoulders live the same thrill when the evening breeze blows; she hides her face in her shoulders, and then looks at him, but to the side, evidently hoping that he has not noticed that she, evidently, cold.

And Eren opens his eyes in shock. And he'd like to punch himself in the face, because he was stupid enough not to wonder if anyone warned her how cold it’s here in the night: it is an island in the middle of the sea!

"Wear this," he mentions, a suggestion that sounds more like a command, as he lowers the zip of the sweatshirt that covers the shirt he usually works with.

"A-ha?"

"Wear this."

"N-no! You don't have to worry, r-really, I'm not cold."

Eren is not convinced by those words, which sound like a classic excuse, and instinctively extends his hand in the direction of her own. He takes her hand, which is _freezing_ like pieces of ice, but only for a second.

His eyes land on hers – she looks bewildered, the grey magnets speak for her, as if to ask ‘what are you doing?’ – and Eren knows it's not really a gesture to indulge in with a stranger. But his intentions aren’t mean, and he shows her the most sincere look he can make, hoping to clarify the gesture.

"How can you say you're not cold?”, his voice comes out more sweeter than how he wanted, “your hands are frosty. Take my sweatshirt. I don't accept 'no' as an answer."

He looks away from her, mortified at not giving her his sweatshirt earlier, parading first one sleeve and then the other.

So, embarrassed, the chic girl takes the sweatshirt from his hands, and their fingers touch quickly.

The brushing feeling dissolves as fast as the summer breeze, when she brings the piece of cloth to her chest, and timidly, slips it, closing the zip till her neck, hiding her chin in the warm cloth.

Eren wonders why he has the feeling he was completely wrong about her, just by that small gesture.

He smiles internally at seeing how big it looks on her – almost like a dress – and she looks up to thank him. Her eyes have something at the time, as if they were illuminated, ink pools under the moon — and the guy naively wonders if she appreciates his scent just as he would gladly smell hers. Even if it's fake.

"Thank you."

"That's all right."

"You didn't really have to," she says, commenting in response as they resume walking.

"It's just a sweatshirt."

"A-ah, I-I know, but it's not just for that," or at least that's what Eren thinks he understood, considering how low, shy, her voice sounds.

That feeling gets stronger.

Eren thinks he knows what she's going to say: 'it's your sweatshirt', 'you shouldn't give it to me', 'I'll give it to you as soon as we get home' – and he's already going to roll his eyes, to stop her from those paranoids. But well, she means something else.

"You don't even know me, and... you were so kind to me. I feel... Really... horrible."

That makes him arch an eyebrow.

... Uh?

_'Horrible'?_

"I stole time from your friends... you just got off work... y-you... you must be so tired. I feel guilty. If you want, I can call my grandmother's driver to get home. You don't really need to sacrifice your free time for... well, this."

She stutters those words with a low look, clutching into the sweatshirt he has just given her, while her cheeks paint a bright red. She looks like a pink daisy, if you ask him.

Her fingertips come out of the sleeves of his sweatshirt, and her nails stick in her arms, when she looks at her side just to see if he will actually give her an answer.

Eren arches his eyebrows even more if possible, because what he wonders it’s very simple:

_What is she talking about?_

Not to make her feel uncomfortable, but he can't _really_ hide how bewildered he is. He doesn't think it's normal to apologize and feel guilty about something someone never did, at least, not for him. Honestly, he doesn't think he understands what she means. He'd really like to process something more complicated than the words that come out of his mouth.

"Eh? What do you mean?"

He means, why apologize?

He watches how the gray pearls move on him, and something tells Eren that she is mustering all courage she has to say what she means.

"B-because of me you're taking time away from your friends, after a gruelling day at work," she's _really mortified_ as she says that, as if it's _really_ her fault, "if you want to go back to the others, do it, I can go home alone or call my grandmother's driver. You should enjoy the evening and not to worry about me."

They look at each other for a second, in confusion by Eren part, in embarassment by Mikasa’s. But then, Mikasa adverts her gaze, unable to hold the eye contact just like that day at the restaurant.

Eren feels his brain go into the greatest mental confusion.

He means, if a guy asks you to walk you home, it's because he wants (and can), do it, right? Why make it so complicated? What the hell does it matter to her if he sacrifices time for his friends or not?

But certainly he can't tell her that - not during the first time he has a way to spend time with her!

"Listen," she seemed more than okay with him to take her home tonight, and now she changed her idea? – "do you want me to take you home", "or you want to call your driver? You choose."

"A-ha?"

"You choose."

He doesn't know what expression he has on his face, but he wishes his tone came out less serious than that, not to bother her. Luckily, she doesn't seem to care about _how_ he said that, more focused on _what_ , with her hypnotic eyes under the moonlight. Right now, instead, she reminds him a cat ready to run away if he got closer.

"I mean, I may not have all the night, but I have time, well, for this". He takes a pause, and then it's quick to specify. "To be honest, I just wanted to talk to you... a bit."

When he finishes expressing his thoughts, and turns to look at her, Eren has no idea what he did.

Her eyes are grainy. Wide opened. She looks at him in total shock, corrugating her eyebrows to her forehead in surprise.

Eren blinks.

Why…is she looking at him like… that?

But more importantly: what did he say wrong?!

"O-oh."

That's it. That's the only thing she says, and in his head Eren tries to decipher that "oh" as if it were a military code. Was she happy to know that he wants to spend some time with her? Or what?

Why girls are so complicated?

But probably his instict is smarter than him, because despite his ‘worries’ – or whatever they are…- , the cheeks of the a girl become crimson. And through the curtain of her hair, he sees her smiling. 

He smiles, too.

And she doesn't comment on what he told her, preferring to change subject.

_'It's true that women are wiser than men._ _'_

"Today I spoke with my mother. I told her about you, and how kind you were to me."

…Does she already talk to her mother about him? That's the most fascinating way to “rush things” he has ever seen in his life.

"She asked me if you were Grisha and Carla's son, and in case, to bring a greeting to your parents."

The pronunciation of that name makes Eren shiver a bit, just a bit, mentioning a ‘yes’, not really willing to share with her the rest. She continues her speech, still carrying her arms to her chest. Slowly the words come out of her mouth with less difficulty.

"She told me that... we played as kids together, but behold, I have no memory of this place." She takes small breaks, between steps.

"You... Do you remember me?"

If she is expectant of an answer, of a "yes", Eren can't really tell, but in digging through his naïve memories, he wonders if he _actually_ reminds her. As a child, he was not such a sociable, so he should remember those few who decided to play with him.

Honestly, for now he doesn't remember anything, but decides to play the cards in his favor, just to see her reaction.

_"Perhaps."_

_Wise choice, Eren._

"Perhaps? "

_She is curious._

"Who knows?" he asks, ironically, carrying his hands in his pocket. "Maybe you were so mean to me as a child, that I preferred to forget you. Baby me was smart."

... He hopes he didn't go too far with the joke. But thankfully, that’s a stupid fear silenced a few seconds later.

"Couldn't I say the same about you?" - have you ever heard a chic trying to make a joke? It's hilarious.

He plays along.

"You mean, that I was mean to you as a child?"

"M-maybe, I don't remember y-you because you were mean to me too."

“What a bad beginning", he comments, pretending to be disappointed. He hears her laugh in the air, a shy giggle hidden behind the most elegant hand he has ever seen in his life, and it makes him grin.

"B-but i'm not sure!" she squeals. Oh my God. Was that an octave?

"Let's make a deal, then."

At least, ice broke. Easier than he thought.

That feeling only gets stronger.

"W-what deal?"

"While I smoke a cigarette, try to give me a good impression of you. If you win, I will forgive you."

'Tell me about you', he conveys, with every gesture, every facial expression.

Mikasa raises an eyebrow in doubt at the unexpected proposal, covering her mouth with the sleeve of her sweater to suppress a giggle.

"I-I will try," she babbles, but definitely less than before, and thinks about the answer for a second. Her lips make a tiny 'o' while probably processing his question.

"Well," she begins, "... to start with, I guess I should say I am happy to be here. This place looks... _magic_. "

Her voice comes out almost as a whisper, sweet and gentle, just like before. Her accent is so strange.

"Today we saw the sunset from the beach, and I think I've never seen anything more beautiful. There were so many colors... and the sky turned pink…and then blue. It was overwhelming."

Her eyes shine, in this moment. Eren can't help but genuinely smile. She takes little steps, carefully describing the way she felt while looking at what Eren looks like the very same sunset he sees everyday from his window. It looks new, different, from her eyes. For a moment, he feels a little bit envious of that, of the way she feels about his place. 

"So I was wondering... How is living here... all year long? "

Her question comes out of nowhere, distracting him from the stream of his thoughts. They are not looking at each other yet, preferring instead the road in front of them. The shops are all closed on the street, and Eren brings the cigarette to his mouth as he thinks.

" _Normal_ ", it's his answer.

Just that.

And he wished it had been longer, because he clearly didn't satisfy her expectations. From the side, he can see the way she arches an eyebrow up, expecting him to say more. He finds funny she is able to speak only when she doesn't look at him.

But honestly, Eren doesn't know if it's the right choice to just blurt out how he feels about the place where he was born, during the very first talk with the chic girl with expensive clothes and his sweater on he has no hopes with. But again, something tells him he can be honest - and there is nothing wrong about confrontation. Maybe he can learn to love that place again, somehow. Who knows?

"I mean, I haven't seen any other place, but this, for sixteen years of my life. So I guess it's...a normal life, here. I mean, what should change from this place to another? Actually, sometimes it's difficult not thinking that living here it's like living in a cage."

This catches her attention, somehow. He feels his stiffen right beside him, but he can't tell if in a positive, or negative way.

"Cage?"

"Yes."

"But how can you feel in a cage, in a place like this? Just looking at that sunset, made me feel so free."

That's what the radical chic thinks, as if to proof a point in her favor - still not daring to look at him, as if by doing so could break the strangely confidence she is feeling by talking with him.

But Eren raises his eyes to the sky, thinking about an answer. To be honest, he finds himself unprepared, and tries his best to explain himself better.

"The island looks amazing when you are a child. Everything looked like an adventure to Armin and me. We would always find something to do, and thought about ourselves as "explorers" " - she giggles softly - "but the problem is that, every road, every stone, every secret of a place... once you discover them all, you realize this is a piece of land in the middle of the sea."

She listens carefully at his explanation, nodding while processing. But still, her silence seems to communicate she in not convinced.

"It may be," she says, "but I would never get tired of living in such a place. Probably, you are just too used to it. "

"Well, you want to switch out?"

She raises an eyebrow, but smiles at that.

"I would gladly accept your offer."

By the time they speak, the cigarette gets untouched. She has his attention more than his addiction.

"Why? Don't you like where you live?"

Now, Eren doesn’t know that, but that’s the question which answer will destroy all his convictions in one second. One second.

And it's like the gears in her head are turning while looking for what to Eren looks like the simplest answer someone could give, a simple "yes" or "no."

Then, she proceeds.

"It's all boring and gray, where I live. It rains often, except in winter when it snows. People are always busy going to work, your neighbors barely greet you, even if you have lived in the same building for years. Here... people are so kind."

The arm distance between them decreases a bit - Eren knows it not because he can see it, but because he can smell her perfume better. However, he listens to her carefully.

"Everyone smiles. They wish you a good day... a good evening. They even offer you sweets while walking. Marleyans are all wary, and it's difficult, very... very difficult to get in their..."circle", if you are not one of them. And well... you can already tell i'm not one."

She ends the speech smiling, but it's bittersweet. Eren needs a moment, because he can't believe what she is telling him:

‘I might be excluded just because I’m not a Marleyan.’

"Even at school?", he asks, even if he is afraid to sound intrusive.

"It's even worse at school," a sigh, "I'm attending an all-girls high school - and sometimes girls are really snakes.”

"Why such a choice?"

"That's the best school of the town I live in, Liberio."

"I see. It must be very annoying, then. "

She gives him a side look, and it's quick to advert gaze the moment she catches him starting at her. He doesn’t judge that anymore.

"It is. I think my life would be totally different if I attended a public school. With no uniform. No dress code. ”

And that's how the radical chic view he had of her falls in an instant.

"Ah. I-I'm sorry, I didn't want to make this speech boring”, is she saying that because of the face he is making in this moment?, “I just noticed how different things are here… and just thought that Marley really needs some colours and happiness of this place."

Eren catches her sight in time.

"You didn't bother me at all. Actually, I'm glad you told me."

"And what about you?"

She is all smiling and naïve, but most importatly, quick to change subject. And she is even so patient, because she must ask it twice, since his brain is too busy to make him feel even more ridiculous for the immature prejudices he had of her, than actually giving a proper answer. But he must dismiss those thoughts, before she misunderstands his reaction.

He decides to tease a bit, just to make her smile again, and well, because he is _really_ curious to know, he asks her:

"What kind of person do you think I am?" 

Eren doesn't make any predictions, he doesn't wonder what a girl like her, kind, polite, his opposite in short, can think about him. Her thin eyebrows lift up, and her cheeks are colored of a soft pink again.

"Y-you... look like a guy who does a lot of illegal things, for his age."

...Uh?

What the hell?

"Oh."

She looks at him as if he was crazy, when he starts laughing at that. The (now fake) radical chic is really direct, when she wants to, uh?

"I look like…what?"

The confidence she so hardly gained breaks in an instant.

"I-I mean... y-you have a job - she caresses her arm and bites her lip and oh, Jesus Christ, - "but I'm sure that the legal age to start working is seventeen. You have a tattoo, and you s-smoke cigarettes..."

"Oh, I see, " Eren comments, amused. "So I _really_ must be the bad guy, at your eyes."

"No! Oh please, no, don't misunderstand me." She curls her lips again the moment they face each other.

Wow, record.

She stared right at him for more than one second without adverting her gaze.

Progresses, he guesses.

"Hey", he reassures her, still too amused to sound serious, "I was just… messing around”. The corners at her mouth raise in a soft smile, and Eren melts. “And to reply your answer, yeah, what I do is quite illegal, and my stepbrother is responsible at least for half of them."

"Your... stepbrother?"

"Yeah, Zeke."

"Oh."

"B-but, do your parents... know?"

"Well, of course."

"And... they are okay with the fact you smoke, and have a tattoo and-"

She talks about these things as if they were a taboo. Oh my God. In which bubble she lived for all this time? Imagine how would she react if she ever heard Reiner speaking about sex. God. Probably she would show up with an holy book the next day…

"I am sorry - I'm sorry, I didn't want to sound indiscrete."

"Ah? You are not indiscreet. It's not a secret," Eren reassures her, again. "No, they are not okay with it, but the damage is done and for what I know you can't give back your son for a less naughty one, that's all."

"A-ha!"

He didn't mean to make her laugh, since that answer came out almost impulsively, but she giggles and giggles, covering her mouth with the sleeve of his sweater. He swears he saw her inhaling the scent of him on it, before parting her hand from that mouth which looks pink, soft and inviting - but strangely, all of sudden, the thought she might not have 'experience' gets stronger and stronger. He doesn't know why.

Silences are not lacking between them as they stroll, but Eren finds it pleasant to chat with her, and hopes it’s the same for her.

Yes, maybe she's a little shy - maybe too much - but friendly.

From time to time, she plays with a lock of hair, and takes breaks before expressing her thoughts, attentive to every word she says. Eren jokingly pretends to misunderstand her, but only to see the redness on her cheeks blaze as she tries at all costs to explain herself better.

When Eren asks about her hobbies, she talks about them as if she was confessing to him a great side of herself: reading, painting, writing stories and drawing. All hobbies one has when spending a lot of time alone, Eren notices.

He's particularly intrigued by the fact that she writes. Armin does too, but mostly he writes poetry, and Eren doesn't think he understands them to the full, even finding them boring. He asks her if he can read something written by her, one of those evenings.

"I-I...will think about that," she says, mortified, "letting people read what I write makes me feel... weird, sometimes. Even if it's product of my fantasy... sometimes I feel as if I was leaving something of myself between those words, and I don't want people to notice it. It makes me feel..."

“Exposed?”, he suggests, to help her.

“Y-yes. I think you are right.”

“Armin says the same thing.”

He wonders what's the purpose of writing, if not for showing.

"I write... for myself, I guess. I write because I feel the need to say a lot of things when my mouth doesn't want to speak. Writing makes me feel less... introverted... and happy, somehow."

For how strange this sounds to him, Eren loves to hear how involved and how serious she is when she talks about her passion. If he can be honest, he can't believe the presence he's walking next to is the same as he's talking. You'd say she's a chick who likes fashion, shopping, perfumes and expensive clothes, not this one. It’s as if her image doesn’t correspond at all to her personality.

And when she asks about his instead, still babbling, he tells her he loves basketball and playing the guitar, that he learnt how to play it by himself. Mikasa's eyes shine really bright at that, and asks "really?", and to proof he is not lying, he shows his left hand.

That's the only time she gets a little closer: to better observe his hand and the calluses on his fingertips, due to the years he spent pressing the guitar strings on the handle. About her writing, she changes idea, somehow, all of sudden.

"Maybe... I can let you read something, if you play something for me. "

He is too busy to melt right in front of her eyes to process why she asked this.

All of sudden, he feels exposed, too.

Maybe playing the guitar should feel less personal than writing, but the perspective of playing in front of such a beautiful girl, with grey pearls eyes piercing your soul, willing to listen to you… makes him nervous, somehow.

He gets what she meant before, now.

It seems that she trains because she is always quick at doing her homeworks, and has a lot of free time. The reason why she has more abs than him, it's because she trains at least two hours and half everyday. He tells her he needs to train because he is part of the basketball team of his school.

"Is this why your hands are so strange?"

No one ever told him his hands are strange.

"I might have broken a couple of fingers while playing, yeah."

She is the first girl who doesn't make a weird face when he says that.

They talk, sometimes stay silent, and only when her home is at sight, Eren realizes how far her place was from the park.

Damn. Around…twenty minutes?

They have talked for almost twenty minutes straight?

The street is silent there, so Eren can hear the sea waves from the near beach. Rising. Retiring. Rising. Retiring.

Her figure is hiding in the shadows of the stairs which will lead her to the first floor apartment, and she turns in his direction, just two steps away from each other, so that to look at him in the eyes she must raise her chin to him. Her smell is overwhelming, and her voice, which comes out as whisper, when she says “"I live here", makes him want to wish their road were longer, so that he could listen to that soft voice just for a little bit more, while playing hide and seek with the grey pearls under the moonlight.

Just a little bit more.

This all sounds so irrational, he knows, but don’t ask him to explain what the hell is happening because he doesn’t know.

One moment, she was the radical beautiful chic who came here to spend her summer, and the next one, she is a girl with an appearance which doesn’t really match her personality, shy, caring and lonely. It’s incredible how many things he got from her in such short time. No wonder they got on well as kids.

So, summer adventures should start more or less like this: you lie, then act nice, then you say silly things to make her laugh and ask her if it’s okay to kiss her cheek, or to talk just a little bit more, and get the ground ready for what might come next,

Isn’t it?

Or at least, this is what Reiner said.

But Eren immediately knows that he can’t do that with this girl.

And still, the realization that tomorrow she will already be on her third day of vacation makes him disheartened, because the question is simple:

how can you make a person yours in just ten days?

"Really? Don’t tell me”, he answers, all of sudden.

"Huh?"

"I know you live here," he says, not missing a laugh at her innocence - "your grandmother is my boss, after all."

"A-ah, you are right, I am sorry."

With her fingertips she touches her lower lip while apologizing, and Eren feels a little guilty for making fun of her. But her smile is reassuring.

"It's that... I forgot that, for a moment."

"Forgot... what?"

"That you work for my grandmother," she says in panic. She is so fuckin beautiful and naïve he can’t. Then she asks him a question, one of those that leaves him baffled just like before.

"May I ask you if... It was...her, who asked you to be so kind to me?"

Uh?

She is so serious while asking that question, that for the first time, she moves her eyes into his, so grey, shining, and stares right at his eyes.

And you're all going to think that a white lie never hurts in this context. But being honest has always been Eren's worst flaw, and at the same time his ace up his sleeve.

"She asked me to introduce you to my friends... But no, I'm not nice to you -- if that's how you put it -- just because you're her granddaughter. Of course."

'Obviously'

"Eren, I really enjoyed talking with you", she says, as if that was the most normal question to ask to a guy who is indeed flirting with you. “Will I... see you soon?"

His heart skips one, or maybe two beats - and he doesn't even know why.

When will he see her again? For tonight he was very lucky, but only because he finished before work. With his work... the stuff to study for the holidays…

"I don't know", and it's the truth, "With work, and stuff... "

"Not even in the morning?"

"Mhm. I study, in the morning."

"Study? During summer? "

"Yeah... long story. I might tell it to you next time we will meet", he wished his voice didn't come out so bittersweet, but he is quick to change his tone, "because I'm pretty sure you have no time to hear it now."

"What do you mean?"

"You have got some sort of curfew or stuff, right?"

"How... how do you know?", she can’t hide her astonishment.

"You ask a lot of questions, uh?"

She cups her cheek with her tiny, delicate hand and smiles in embarassment.

"I-I am sorry" - oh my god why does she apologize for the stupidest things - "but yeah, you are right, I have curfew."

Eren smiles at her, but he doesn't want to cause her trouble, and despite he wishes they could speak more, he takes a step back.

"I know... I guess i should go. Thank you Mikasa, I had really nice time."

"O-Oh, I am glad... we were able to talk, too", a pause, "I also wanted to apologize for our first meeting."

What does this even have to do with the speech they were having? Eren narrows an eyebrow, but finds this aspect of her funny and cute. To be more precise, he finds it unusual. He lets her speak.

"I was too overwhelmed by the place, not knowing anyone, I was just so confused I forgot to greet people. I wonder what did you think of me? You must have thought I was very disrespectful, I'm sorry."

She cups her face with both of her hands now, cheekbones raising, eyes landing on somewhere else but not on him.

He wished she didn't say that, because her innocence triggered the shit out of him.

"Why don't you ask me, what I thought of you? "

"What?"

"Well, you want to know it, don't you? Just ask, then."

He tries not to show how impatient he is to listen to that question, but made from her lips.

Silence.

She breaths, blinks in confusion. He knows she is mustering all the courage she has, and knows she wants _to hear_ his answer. And if she does, he probably has a chance with her.

Another pause. She gulps. Blinks nervously a couple of time, and finally asks:

"W-what did you... think about me?"

He smiles really bright at that, because finally, fuckin finally, she stares at his lips, and then at him as if they were a thin line suspended in the air, waiting for an answer, hoping for one, but more important: hoping it will come soon. And he loves, loves to what point she pushed herself just to hear him say:

"I thought you were beautiful."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPOILERS 138:
> 
> EREMIKA CANONNNNNNNNNNNNNN!


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